Please Wake Up
by PinkElephant42
Summary: After defeating Voldemort, Harry falls into a coma. Draco waits at St. Mungo’s for him to wake up. This is a letter from Draco to Harry exploring their relationship and the events that led to Harry’s current state. HPDM slash, HPB spoilers.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, and this is just for fun.

Thank you to Kaitlyn Carson for the beta. Also, thank you to all of my reviewers!

---

Prologue

Draco Malfoy was growing restless. The waiting room at St. Mungo's was a harsh white with purple striped wallpaper that completely clashed with his coloring. The plastic chairs were uncomfortable. He got up and transfigured one of them into a squishy armchair with the Malfoy crest in the middle. He slumped down into it to wait some more.

His boyfriend was unconscious, and no one would tell him what was going on, because no one believed that Draco Malfoy could be Harry Potter's boyfriend. Harry was in a private room down a locked corridor, and the mediwizards got to choose who went in, and who didn't.

A mediwizard looked over at the brooding blond, and Draco glared at him. "Unless you're going to tell me something useful about Harry Potter, keep your roaming eyes on your work," Draco called to him.

The mediwizard looked back at the secretary behind the desk and said something that Draco couldn't hear. He was sure, however, that it was something along the lines of, "Can't we get that arse out of here?"

Across the room, Hermione Granger rolled her eyes. She looked at Ron, who was sleeping peacefully next to her. Her boyfriend looked so cute when he was asleep.

An idea struck her. She dug around in her bag, and pulled out a stack of parchment and a Self-Inking Quill.

---

Draco was busy tapping his fingers irritably on the end of his transfigured chair when the Hermione approached him. He scowled at her. She attempted a smile for the Slytherin, but it had no effect.

"Since you won't talk to anyone here except to insult us, I thought maybe you'd like some parchment to get your frustration out," Hermione said.

"I'm not frustrated," Draco growled.

"Well, you could have fooled us," Hermione said. She dropped the parchment in his lap.

"I don't need your pity," Draco said.

"It's not pity," Hermione assured him. "It's something to make you stop scowling at us all day."

She looked to the other side of the room, where Ron, Ginny, Molly, Luna, Neville, Hagrid, and Professor McGonagall currently sat, or in Ron's case, slumped. Molly and the professor seemed to be having an in-depth conversation of some sort. Ginny and Luna were sharing an issue of the Quibbler. Neville and Hagrid appeared to be staring around nervously and attempting conversation with each other.

"When… if… Harry comes out of this okay, we'll know the truth, but understand that for now, we don't trust you," Hermione said.

Draco scowled at her. He was good at that.

She rolled her eyes and walked back to her friends.

Draco scowled some more, but this time he did so at the parchment and quill in his lap. Then he realized that was accomplishing nothing, and picked up the quill. After a few false starts, he began writing.


	2. Thursday, 8pm

Thursday, 8pm

Harry,

You will probably never read this letter. If you live, I will have no reason to give it to you, and if you don't- oh, Merlin, I can't think about that. You can't d- I mean, you have to wake up. If I lose you, I don't think I could go on.

You saved our world Harry. The Dark Lord is dead. You probably won't even remember what happened when you wake up.

If you wake up.

I wish I could save you. Hold you in my arms, kiss you, breathe the life back into you, like in the fairy tales.

Yes, I know it's melodramatic. But that's me. The melodramatic, cunning, smart, beautiful (you get the idea) Slytherin. But honestly, Harry, I'm worried. More worried than I have ever been in my life. The morons here won't tell me anything. I sit here in the waiting room of St. Mungo's, well, waiting. Alone. For two days now. None of your friends trust me, and none of mine trust you. So I'm alone here.

I'm being melodramatic again.

Anyway, they won't tell me what's going on, how you're doing. You could be sitting awake this very moment, perfectly fine-

But you're not. I know you're not because as soon as you woke up you'd tell all those idiots off for not letting me near you. Maybe they'd believe it if the words came from your mouth instead of mine. Because they refuse to believe me, Harry. After all I've done, I guess I shouldn't blame them, but they must be stupid to not see how much I-

I love you.

_We_ love _each other._

We don't say those words enough, Harry. We both know it's true, but we refrain from saying them. Once those words have left our lips we immediately become more vulnerable, and that is something neither of us have ever been comfortable with. We both like being in control of a situation. It's the reason it took us so long to trust each other, the reason for most of our arguments, and the reason we fight over who tops and who bottoms in sex- even though it does lead to some kinky things.

Or, it did.

And I would very much like to continue that.

If you would just wake up.

They're saying you probably won't, but I know you better than that. You're too strong to give in. You and your damn Gryffindor courage. They say Gryffindors and Slytherins can't be together, but I don't think we're that different. Both strong, self-righteous. We both have a great amount of pride. We each know we're the best. Even with your stupid loyalty complex, Gryffindors aren't actually that bad. Especially you, Harry. You know, you and I could be the most powerful (and richest) wizards alive.

Wouldn't that be great? We can finally be together now. The war is over. There's no one to stop us.

This is what we've worked so hard for. Remember how we got together? Remember those nights by the lake, that first kiss, hot cocoa by the fire? I want that sort of romance again, Harry. We don't even have to hide it anymore. I want to spend each day by your side, and each night in your arms.

Merlin, I'm rambling.

You've turned me into a romantic sod, you know that? It's kind of pathetic, but I am so head-over-heels for you that I don't even care. Just, please, come back to me.

Please, wake up.


	3. Friday, 9 am

Friday, 9 am

When did we put all that Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry behind us? That was quite a feat, wasn't it? It didn't happen all at once, we've got too much history for that. Those late nights by the lake were what helped us see each other in a new light.

And if you hadn't invaded My Spot, this never would have happened.

Yes, it's still My Spot. You know, the big tree by the lake. I've been climbing it since second year. You just happened to be there one night, sitting at the base, and I was not going to let the bloody Boy-Who-Should-Have-Died interrupt my life.

But you did, and don't worry, Harry, I don't think you Should-Have-Died anymore. That was a childish thing, anyway. I like to think that we've grown past all of those petty insults.

I want to tell you that. I want us to laugh about all the stupid things we did when we were younger, because we did a lot of them. How many insults, arguments, hexing-matches did we get into? I'd tell you that none of it matters, that I didn't mean any of it.

I'd tell you if you'd just wake up.

You've interrupted my life, my everything. You mean the world to me, and I know I've never said that to you, but I've thought it plenty of times over the past year. On that warm night at the end of our fifth year, everything changed, and we were too stupid then to realize it.

Good thing we're both so stubborn, right? We were both completely unwilling to give up our spots by/in the tree. So, when you showed up like that, I just climbed right over you, up to my usual perch, trying to get on with my usual relaxing evening.

Well, it was supposed to be relaxing. That night the ten feet didn't seem as high as it usually did. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that some freak sitting at the bottom kept talking to me, asking me annoying questions.

Really Potter, don't you have any better pick-up lines than "come here often?"

But yes, I did go there often, and always late at night. There was a secret passage running from the dungeons to the lake that Aunt Bellatrix told me about. She said she used to sneak away and snog boys in it.

Aunt Bellatrix was a horrible woman, but she had some great stories about Hogwarts. I'll tell you all of them if you wake up.


	4. Friday, 6pm

Friday, 6 pm

I didn't expect to see you there again, but a week later you showed up at the base of My Tree. I was surprised, but played it off.

"What's wrong, Potter, can't get enough of me?"

"Shut up, Malfoy." You sat by the roots and brooded.

Well, that was lame. So I tried to spice things up. Remember how I made fun of you from my perch in the branches? Remember the tirade of insults on your friends, family, fame? Of course you do. You were hanging on my every word, even though you pretended not to. Then, finally, I got some sort of reaction out of you: a muffled, strangled, "Piss off, Malfoy."

I realized you were crying, but had no idea what to do about it. You got up to leave, but I didn't want you to. This was my fault. I wanted you to hex me, or maybe just punch me in the face. It suddenly occurred to me how much pain I had caused you over the years we had known each other.

I called your name, and you turned to look at me. I will never forget the way your tear-stained face shown in the moonlight. I looked at you, and there were no longer any words, hurtful or otherwise. That look knocked all of them right out of me. It was a look of hurt, like no one could ever understand what you were going through.

And you were right, of course.

Who could ever understand what it's like to be marked for death at the hands of the most powerful dark wizard of our age, and many other ages for that matter? I don't know how you did it, Harry. How could you could ever find good in the world knowing that?

You're amazing.

Wake up.

---

Somehow you had managed to work your way into my life. I had to know more about you. It was like I hadn't known you at all for the past five years. And I hadn't really. I had never bothered to get to know you. All I knew were the stories. I knew why your name was famous, but had no idea of the prophecy or the battle that would come.

The one that would nearly destroy you.

The one that might actually have destroyed you.

I can picture it. You lay in that bed, white hospital sheets tucked neatly around you. The people who love you wandering in and out, holding your hand, talking to you in hopes that you'll just wake up.

I want you to wake up too, Harry.

There are flowers and gifts. Wizards from all over keep bringing them, and the nurses bring them back to your room. It must be a cluttered mess in there by now. Everyone is just ecstatic that you killed Voldemort for them. Never mind that you could be dy- you-

I might never see your smile again. Your bright green eyes. You might never again hold me close, kiss me on the cheek, neck, lips. I may never taste the sweetness of your warm mouth on mine again. I can't do this.

Merlin, Harry, I need you to wake up.

---

OK, I'm getting hysterical. I need to calm down. Deep breaths, Draco. It's okay, Harry, you're not gone yet. As far as I know, you're still alive. Barely, but alive all the same. As long as there is a breath in your lungs, there is hope, and I will cling to that little, desperate hope. It is all I have.

I'm not good at begging, but I'm even worse when I don't get what I want. I'll admit, I can be a foul git when it comes to that. So for you, Harry, I will beg.

Please, please wake up.


	5. Saturday, 2 am

Saturday, 2 am

I can't sleep.

Sound familiar?

Anyway, the next night you were waiting for me. Needless to say, I was shocked. After that display, I thought for sure you would hate me forever. You never ceased to amaze me, Harry, right from the beginning.

So there you were, sitting in what had quickly become Your Spot at the base of the tree. You looked up at me as I approached, and when I got close enough to make out your features in the darkness I could see that you were trying desperately not to cry.

I sat next to you, relinquishing My Spot in the branches. For what felt like a long time, but was probably only a minute or so, neither of us said anything. I couldn't handle the tense silence between us, so I broke it with an arbitrary comment. "Nice night."

"Not really," you said, and you were right.

It was a cloudy, chilly night, thick with the threat of rain. Of course, you could have also been referring to the fact that you were miserable. You looked like hell, too, with your messy hair, wrinkled robes, and your face all contorted like you were going to start blubbering at any moment. You were hugging your knees to your chest and staring listlessly into the distance. Of course, the hair can be forgiven, as messy is its natural state. It's even sort of sexy. On you. Only on you. No one else would be able to get away with that.

So I had to tell you that you looked like hell. You didn't respond.

"Can't sleep again?" I asked, continuing my one-sided conversation. And again, I received no response. Merlin, what did I have to do to get you to- i oh, this isn't good. /i

Because while I was thinking that, you flopped forward so your face was hidden in your arms and started sobbing.

What the bloody hell was I supposed to do now? I had a hysterical Harry Potter sitting next to me, do you know how bad it would have looked if someone had found us like that? So I cautiously put a hand on your shoulder. You tensed at the touch, but recognized it as the little gesture of comfort that it was. I suppose I should have offered you more, but after five and a half years of fighting with you, it was difficult enough to take that first, small gesture into friendship, or at least tolerance.

I think you understood, though.

I let you cry, and by the time you were finished, I managed to care enough to ask what was wrong.

"I'm attracted to guys," you said.

OK, so that was not what I was expecting you to say. Once I got over my initial shock, I managed to ask, "What's so bad about that?"

I never really kept my sexual escapades secret. I'd been with both guys and girls. Lots of them. Mostly Slytherin. But you know that.

"It's bad because I'm attracted to my best friend," you replied.

Well, that was disturbing. It's difficult to see how anyone would be attracted to the Weasel. I thought up a few good insults, but for the sake of our budding friendship, opted to hide my disgust by finding something else to comment on.

"Wow, that's the longest string of words you've managed to put together since we started these little late-night excursions," I taunted, and immediately regretted it. The look you gave me was enough to do that.

"Shove off, Malfoy," you said, and retreated back into your reclusive position. "I was trying to be civil with you."

"I mean, that's good, that you're actually talking," I covered.

You leaned back against the tree trunk and looked at me. I could see the hurt in your eyes. You didn't talk anymore, so I tried again, struggling to get the very un-Malfoy words from my mouth.

"Tell me… I mean… I want to know… why… what's… wrong." Oh, that was painful.

"I told Ron and Hermione that I'm gay, and they were okay with it," you said. "But I ruined it. I was attracted to Ron, and I couldn't hold it in anymore. Even if I knew he would never return the feelings, I had to tell him. So I did."

"And?" I prompted.

"And of course he doesn't like me like that, and I think he's angry at me," you said.

Do you remember? You sounded so hurt. I placed my hand on your shoulder again, and you leaned into the touch.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

"Because you asked," you said. Could it be that you had been miserable for some time and those damn Gryffindors didn't bother to ask what was wrong? Bloody insensitive gits.

"I don't get it, Malfoy. How can you be so comfortable with your sexuality, while I just keep screwing things up?"

This was a personal topic. "I am not talking about sex with you. Ever. Eww." I shuddered and pulled my hand away.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," you said. You sounded angry, or at least frustrated. What could I do? I got angry too.

I know, it was stupid. Then we were arguing again. I don't even remember what was said, but I know that it hurt both of us. You stormed off, and I was sure that this time I had ruined it, and you wouldn't be back.

---

But you were back the next night anyway, right on schedule. We even managed to have a full conversation with no insults and no arguing. You were so unsure of yourself. Do you know that when you are insecure about something, you move your hands a lot when you talk? It's as if they'll make your point for you, or at least distract from the fact that you are spouting complete nonsense.

You did a lot of hand-talking that night. You're so cute when you do that. You have a lot of cute little habits. I want to learn more. I want us to move in together, like we were talking about before all of this happened.

Wake up so we can.


	6. Saturday, 10am

Saturday, 10 am

We met every night by the lake, for a month.

I told you a bit about my childhood, how vile my father was, and how my mother comforted me after his verbal and physical blows. I told you about my friends, about the pureblood families, and about the prejudices that had been handed down through the generations; not that you needed to be told, as you've witnessed them yourself, often because of me.

You told me about your friends, your horrible Muggle family, and the people you now consider family. You told me about the Marauders, about your own experiences in Hogwarts.

You cried in my arms when Sirius died, and I wished that I could do something to lessen the pain. The truth was, however, that my own family members were responsible for his death, and I had a hard time understanding why you trusted me enough to open up to me.

When I asked you about it, you said, "This is war. I should expect things like this to happen." You tightened your grip on me. "You had nothing to do with what happened that night," you reassured me. Not knowing what else to do or say, I just let you cry into my robes.

My rather expensive robes, mind you. You should be grateful.

In the days following, you told me about Voldemort, and that no one close to you was safe. You said there was a lot more to the Voldemort story, but you couldn't tell me, or anyone, about it. A war was beginning, and secrets were necessary.

We mostly avoided talking about the war after that. It was a difficult subject for us both. Instead, we talked about Quidditch, school, our peers. I shared Slytherin stories, and you shared Gryffindor stories. My favorite ones included the Weasely twins, but don't let any of the redheads know that.

The point is, we got closer than either of us, I think, would have believed we could. So close in fact, that at some point we developed crushes on each other.

Well, I convinced myself it was just a crush. You were attractive, funny, sentimental, and you were so confused. It would be easy to take advantage of you.

But I couldn't.

I had grown to actually like you, and didn't want to destroy that.

Imagine my surprise when, just a week before summer break, you kissed me.

We were sitting in Our Spot, at the base of the tree. We were close together, but you scooted closer, so that out shoulders were touching. You were saying something about Granger and the Weasel (you had worked things out with him by this time), but having you in such close proximity was clouding my senses, and I wasn't paying attention.

All of a sudden I realized you weren't talking anymore. I tried to come up with something intelligent to say, but only managed, "Um."

Your head was tilted up toward mine, your lips parted slightly, your eyes welcoming. I started to turn my head away, but you placed a hand on my cheek, stopping me. Then you closed the distance and placed your sweet lips on mine in a gentle caress. I deepened it, letting you know this was okay. My hand slipped around your waist, pulling you closer. This is what I wanted.

I've never told you this, but after the first few nights with you I started dreaming about you. I became fascinated with you, your looks, especially your lips. I wanted so much to kiss you, but had been afraid you'd pull away.

I don't know how long we stayed like that.

I could have stayed there forever.

Wake up, Harry.

Your kisses are the life of me. I need them like I need to breathe. Without them I am the hopeless mess of a man you see in this letter.

Please, wake up.


	7. Saturday, 1pm

Saturday, 1 pm

We didn't see each other in private for the rest of the week. I left Hogwarts that June, confused and, truth be told, lonely. I knew I wouldn't be able to see you again until September. This left me feeling more lost than I ever had before.

There was never love before you came into my life. There was lust, sex, seduction, but never love. I didn't know what it was supposed to feel like, so I didn't recognize that this was what I felt for you. If anyone had told me, before all this, that I would fall in love with the famous Harry Potter, I would have hexed them into next year without hesitation. 

But now I know. I love you, Harry Potter.

I need to tell you that.

Wake up, so I can.

---

That summer, I thought about you, and us, a lot. We were headed into a forbidden relationship.

There, I'm being melodramatic again. I really should stop that.

Seriously, though, we were crazy to start this (not that I'm sorry we did - trust me, I have no regrets regarding our relationship, or how we went about it).

You were - and still are - every bit the courageous Gryffindor, fighting for the safety of the whole wizarding world. I was the son of the most arrogant, brain-washed Death Eater in the Dark- I mean Voldemort's regime. Gryffindor Heroes and Slytherin Death Eaters weren't supposed to fall in love.

But there it was. I couldn't deny that I felt something for you, and your actions showed that you felt the same for me.

Merlin, I was falling hard for you.

I started to do some soul-searching about who Draco Malfoy really was and where his loyalties actually lay.

I had been told what to think, how to act, whom to like. From childhood, my father had drilled certain ideas into me, never giving me a chance to discover things for myself. I realized that I was on the path to becoming his clone, and this distressed me.

With you in my life, it suddenly occurred to me that I could change.

Well, that's easier said than done, when someone as powerful as the Dark Lord is involved.

I shouldn't try to rationalize what I did. I should have fought harder, but I was… afraid.

Merlin, that's hard to admit.

---

August.

The Dark Lord was back, and quickly rising to power. He needed more minions, and my father volunteered me.

I protested, but I was brought before the Dark Lord anyway, and made to kneel in his presence. I didn't have much choice, being under my father's Imperius curse. The Dark Lord threatened me. He told me that if I didn't do this, he would kill my mother.

I cried, but agreed. I couldn't sacrifice her.

He forced me to take the vows of allegiance, then there was a blinding pain, and I passed out. When I woke, I was in my own bed, with warm afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. My mother was sitting next to me, reading a book, and there was a cool cloth wrapped around my arm.

I wonder if she knew about the threat?

As soon as I had fully regained consciousness, I ripped off the cloth to reveal, to my abject horror, the Dark Mark. The events of the previous night - I can't describe it. them. It was absolute anger and remorse and hopelessness, all at the same time. I thought about you, and I wanted to cry.

Isn't it funny that I thought about you?

One kiss, and you had me completely undone. I had never been much of a crier before.

Somehow, you broke through my defenses. Before you so effectively interrupted my life, I could have done it; been a Death Eater. My father had been training me for it for most of my life, after all. It was just something that I was supposed to do.

But now, I was scared.

---

Before I left for Hogwarts in September, the Dark Lord gave me an impossible task, and threatened me with death. Then he threatened to kill my mother. With both of our lives depending on my success, I reluctantly agreed to the task.

Because of this, I became afraid of you. If you found out, you would hate me, and I didn't think I could handle that.

I need you to love me, Harry.

I need you to wake up.


	8. Saturday, 8pm

Saturday, 8 pm

The food they have in the St. Mungo's cafeteria is crap. I'd just like you to know that.

For you, I endure endless emotional pain, verbal abuse, and food that's not fit for a house-elf, let alone a Malfoy. I choked it down, and I threw it all back up again. The mediwizards gave me a potion to settle my stomach.

Do you see the stress you are putting me through?

Why won't you wake up?

Merlin.

---

So, where was I?

Right. Back at Hogwarts.

Did you know that I waited for you in My - no - Our Spot every night for a week before you finally came? I've never just waited for anyone before. It was always a take-it-or-leave-it deal, and the smart people knew to take it. But for you, I waited.

Much like I am now.

Except then, your life wasn't on the line.

Although, if you hadn't come when you did, I may have put your life on the line. You can be frustrating sometimes. You should have come sooner; should have known I was waiting for you. But then, you were always terrible at Legilimency.

I shouldn't have been so upset about it. As it was, when you finally did show up, I accosted you, told you off, and you probably didn't even understand why. The whole time I kept the end of the left sleeve of my robe balled in my fist, afraid you would see the fresh Mark on my arm.

You avoided me for nearly a month after that.

I set about the task that the Dark Lord had given me, kept myself occupied with that, and my classes. I tried to forget about you, but I couldn't. For nearly a month, I didn't go to Our Spot.

By early October, I figured you had given up on me, and you would have no reason to go back to Our - I mean My Tree.

But there you were. I saw you before you saw me, and I almost turned around right there. I could have gone back to the safety of the dungeons, away from these confusing feelings. Did you know that? I almost gave up on us.

But I didn't. I sucked it up and sat down next to you. You leaned against me and told me you were glad I came. You apologized for whatever it was that you did wrong, and I accepted your apology.

I should have been the one apologizing. I should have stopped you, but my pride got in the way. I never told you that it wasn't your fault, after all. So here it is:

I, Draco Malfoy, was wrong, and you, Harry Potter, did nothing wrong, really. So I'm sorry.

There. An apology. You won't hear those words from me often, so I hope you appreciate them.

Then you did something to wash all rational thought from my mind. You pulled me close and kissed me again. I completely let myself go, melting into your arms. You pressed your body against mine. Quidditch is good to you. You have these delicate, strong muscles all along your lithe body.

You felt so good against me, and your lips were just as soft and sweet as I remembered.

This marked the beginning of a string of late-night make-out sessions that I am rather proud of, each one pushing farther than the last.

There has always been physical attraction between us - we're teenage boys, after all - but the emotional stuff kept us from fulfilling all of those physical needs right away. We both needed more than physical satisfaction, even if neither of us wanted to admit it.

Luckily, our relationship grew into one where we could trust each other with our emotions, even if we couldn't share all of our secrets. There was so much we were afraid to tell each other. We were involved in a war that neither of us wanted to be a part of, and it just wasn't safe.

We don't have to be afraid anymore, Harry. The war is over. We can tell each other all of our secrets now.

If you wake up, I can tell you everything.


	9. Saturday, 11pm

Saturday, 11 pm

Granger and the Weasel are talking about me. They're sitting across the room, and every so often, one of them looks in my direction. I can't read Granger's expressions, but the Weasel looks like he would hit me with the Killing Curse if he could get away with it.

They're both worried about you. I can tell they haven't slept any more than I have these past few days, and that's not very much. I'm sure they haven't fucked in a while, either. The Weasel looks like he could use a good shag.

But enough about them. This is about you and me. About how much I need you.

How much I need you to wake up.

---

As the months went by, we talked more, but said less. I had my orders from the Dark Lord, and you had the Order to worry about. The war was upon us, and we were on different sides. We resorted to more physical pastimes.

We touched each other, slipping curious hands into our robes and down our pants, fondling each other. Do you know how good your nimble fingers feel around me? From there we progressed to sucking on each other. The first time you came for me was, in a word, amazing. I just wanted to see that look on your face more. We grew even more intimate.

We moved our nightly meeting to the Room of Requirement. By this time, it was getting too cold outside, anyway.

The room looked the same each night we came. It was small, cozy, with a big stone fireplace as the only source of light and heat; a large soft couch, and a thick quilt. There were always two mugs of cocoa on the round coffee table, yours with marshmallows, mine without.

We started this particular December night as usual, drinking our cocoa and talking about whatever came to mind. Then I put our empty mugs on the table and moved between your legs. You were propped sideways on the couch, and I just lay on top of you.

You pulled me up and kissed me deeply. What a wonderful feeling. I let my hands wander down to rub against you through your pants. I broke the kiss, and moved down, deftly undoing the button and zipper and freeing your hardness from your boxers.

As my tongue worked on you, you unclasped your robe and slid your arms out, letting it fall to the couch. You lifted your shirt over your head, then moved to unclasp my robe. I tensed as you undid the top button of my shirt, remembering why we hadn't been naked together before.

If you saw me naked, you would see the Dark Mark on my arm.

I pulled away.

You were undeterred, grabbed my arm, and pulled me closer. "I want to make love to you, Draco," you said.

Merlin, how those words affected me. My name on your lips, connected to those words. It was erotic in ways I never imagined. I felt full of lust for you and full of dread at the same time. As much as I wanted to completely give in, I had to deny you.

I want to hear those words fall from your lips again and again.

I want you to wake up.

I stumbled over my words. That does not happen to me often, mind you, but I truly didn't know what to say to you. You sat, ready and willing, with your pants around your knees, and I lay in your arms. Your warm, comforting arms. I wanted to cry.

Why is it that you make me want to cry? I suppose sometimes love makes us weak. But at other times it strengthens us. That's strange, isn't it?

I finally choked out the words, "We can't," and you looked hurt. I couldn't look at you as you asked me why. Was I nervous? Was something wrong? Did I not think of you in that way?

No, I wasn't any of those things. I turned away from you, grabbed my robe and headed for the door. But you jumped up and had your arm around me before I even got close to it. You stood, pressed against my back for what felt like a long while, one hand around my waist, the other holding up your still-undone pants.

Then you said, "Don't worry, baby. I won't hurt you." Your fingers started tugging at the buttons on my shirt. I let you, not knowing what else to do. You turned me around, and when you tried to slip the shirt off my shoulders, I stopped you.

"No," I said. "I need you to know something." You waited patiently as I tried to find words to tell you that I was the thing you hated, the thing you were fighting against in this war. Finally I said, "I understand if this upsets you. Believe me, I did not do this by choice. Voldemort would have killed both me and my mother, and my father would have watched, and done nothing. He's the one who volunteered me in the first place."

At the mention of Voldemort's name you tensed, and by the time I finished talking, I was in tears. I let the shirt slip to the floor and held out my left arm.

I couldn't look at you.


	10. Sunday, 7am

Sunday, 7 am

How long did we stay like that? Minutes? Years? I felt like I had betrayed you in the worst possible way. In the end, no words were said. You got dressed and left me standing there.

Alone.

Like I am now.

Please wake up, Harry.

---

I didn't go back to my dorm that night. I stayed in the Room of Requirement, watching the fire go from the blaze it was to smoldering embers. At some point, I dozed off on the couch, but it wasn't a restful sleep.

I was miserable the next morning. When my friends and my housemates asked what was wrong, I told them I was sick and I had spent the night in the hospital wing. They believed me. I looked like hell.

After two days, I sucked it up and tried to return to my normal self, or as close as I could get. You and I still sneered at each other in the halls, insulted each other in front of our friends. We kept up all pretenses, acting like nothing had ever happened between us. But we were both hurt. This went on through Christmas break.

When we came back, you from the Burrow and me from Malfoy Manor, I needed to do something. I went to the Room of Requirement and waited.

Five nights in a row.

I went outside and flew my broom up to Gryffindor tower one night, before I realized I didn't even know which window was yours. Besides, there were your roommates to worry about.

Then I went out to Our Spot by the tree and waited, but only for two nights. I figured you'd be crazy to go out in the January cold, and I was too.

I really did get sick from that. No need to lie to my roommates this time.

By the time I was well again, I was no closer to patching things up with you. I had to stop this pathetic Romeo-and-Juliet romantic nonsense and come up with a decent plan.

---

I bumped into you on purpose on the way to lunch in the Great Hall. As we scowled at each other, and you insulted me to conceal your shock, I pressed a piece of paper into your hand. Do you remember? It said, i meet me tonight /i . I knew you'd know where.

I hoped you would show up.

If you didn't, I would be torn apart.

---

I was in the Room of Requirement early that night. I brought my Potions homework to keep me occupied until you came, or to distract me if you didn't.

It did a horrible job.

I couldn't keep my mind off you. I kept running through all the things I could say, the apologies, the pleas, the bargaining. I was driving myself crazy.

You showed up after eleven, and my mind went blank. I was so happy you were standing there, but terrified that you would turn and run away.

Did you know how much this was hurting me? You could probably see it in my gray eyes.

Your eyes are so much prettier than mine. The color is so much more vibrant.

I have to see your eyes again, Harry.

You have to wake up.

The cozy little room was suffocating that night. There was so much tension between us. I was the one to finally break the silence.

"Harry, I'm sorry. I- I want to tell you everything. I want us to make it right." I fell to my knees, unsure if I could go on.

You watched me with your wide green eyes. I gathered my courage and went on in a soft voice; but you heard every word, and every word hurt you. I could see it in your face.

"The Dark Lord is planning Dumbledore's death, and you have to stop it," I said. "You need to stop him. You need… you…"

And then you dropped to the floor beside me, and gathered me up in your arms. We were both crying.

"We'll stop him," you said.


	11. Sunday, 4pm

Sunday, 4pm

Granger insisted on having lunch with me today. She took me out to a little Muggle café down the street and we got sandwiches and coffee. We sat in silence for a while, and then she suddenly started talking about you.

"Harry's like a brother to me," she said. "He's my best friend, and all I want is for him to be happy, and well-" She stopped talking as abruptly as she started. She appeared to be thinking.

I didn't say anything, and she continued.

"Alive," she said. "I want him to come out of this all right. And… um…" Eloquent, isn't she? "Um… I'm not exactly sure what has been going on between you two, but if being with you is what makes Harry happy, then that's what I want." She took a long sip of her coffee. "For you two to be together, I mean."

She looked like she had finished, and I guessed I was supposed to say something intelligent then. I came up with at least three good insults regarding Mudbloods and Weasels, two sarcastic responses to what she said, and a babble of incoherent mush amounting to, i is Harry, the guy I love, going to be all right? /i

I opted for the incoherent mush. "Harry - is he - what's going on - alive - theywon'tletmeseehim - so…I don't know…"

You would have been proud of me.

"Pardon?" Granger said.

"I mean, have you heard anything about Harry's condition?" I asked her more coherently.

"No one knows much. I'm sorry. It's kind of up in the air right now," she said. She did look sorry.

"They won't let me see him," I said. She already knew that of course, and nodded. "Look Granger," I started again, but she cut me off.

"Call me Hermione," she said. I scowled. I'm good at that. She looked put off, so I nodded. "Can I call you Draco?" she asked, and I nodded again. I supposed it couldn't hurt.

"Hermione." The word was foreign on my tongue, especially in relation to the frizzy-haired girl in front of me. "I want to see Harry."

"I'm sorry, Draco, I don't think I can help. It's hard enough just getting the people close to him in-"

"I am bloody close to him! I've fucked him!" I said this a little too loud. People around us turned to stare.

We waited for them to turn away again, then Granger- Hermione- said in a reasonable voice, "I know, but what the St. Mungo's mediwizards see is that Dark Mark on your arm. When I say 'close to Harry,' I mean the people he has adopted as his family. The Weasleys, me, Remus. McGonagall gets through too, everyone knows her, and Tonks, as she's an Auror. She gets through on 'Ministry business.'"

I had to laugh at that. Not a happy laugh, exactly, more like a knowing laugh. "Yes, that sounds like my cousin."

"Tonks is your cousin?" Granger- Hermione asked me.

"Yes. Most of the purebloods are related. It's getting harder and harder to keep it pure, actually. I'm even distantly related to your boyfriend." I'll admit, this was said with a bit of a sneer.

Okay, more than a bit.

"Oh." Grang - Hermione sipped her coffee. It's not often that she has nothing to say, is it? So, is it bad that there are so many long silences between us? Maybe she's just thinking. I can just see the little (and I do mean little) wheels in her head turning sometimes.

"So I can't see him?" I confirmed.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Hermione lamented.

Hearing Grang - Hermione say my first name was strange. Only Slytherins and you call me Draco. No one else at Hogwarts gets that close to me, not even some of the people I've fucked.

That doesn't include you of course. You're different. You're so much more than a good fuck to me.

Another awkward silence ensued.

"When is your trial?" Hermione asked.

"In a month. Merlin." I placed my head in my hands. "The only two people who knew what was going on with me were Harry and Dumbledore. Dumbledore's dead, and Harry is…" I couldn't finish. As the days go by, it gets harder and harder to talk about you like this.

Hermione understood. She reached over the table and took my hand in a surprising gesture of friendship. Why is it that I keep getting shocked by bloody Gryffindors?

"Draco, I want you to tell me what happened between you and Harry. The whole story."

So I did. Well, not the whole story, but the important bits. And not the parts that hurt. Mostly, I told her about you, but as she's your best friend, she already must know you're wonderful. I neglected to mention how you reacted to the Dark Mark on my arm, and skipped over the bits when we were arguing. So really, I guess I didn't tell her much, but it was enough for her to understand that we had been through a lot together, and that we loved each other.

And I didn't call her Mudblood, or Ron, Weasel, or go out of my way to insult any of your friends the whole time.

You would have been proud, Harry.

Look, I'm even starting to get along with your friends.

You can wake up now.


	12. Sunday, 10pm

Sunday, 10 pm

I don't know what you told Dumbledore the day after my confession, but all of a sudden I found myself in his office, explaining that I was to be responsible for his murder. He listened to everything; from my relationship with you to the way my father forced me into Voldemort's presence. He thanked me for the information, told me to keep him updated, and sent me away with a Cockroach Cluster.

What was that man's obsession with candy, anyway?

I don't even like Cockroach Clusters, but I ate it. I don't know why, it wasn't like he was watching me on the way back to the Slytherin common room.

It's a long walk from the Headmaster's tower to the dungeons. It gives one a lot of time to think.

I thought about how much danger our relationship would put us both in if anyone found out. I figured, as you're Dumbledore's Golden Boy, it was okay for him to know. But if the students caught wind of it, or certain members of staff… Severus was a Death Eater. Slughorn couldn't keep his fat mouth shut if he tried. If one student found out, the rest of Hogwarts would know by morning. Rumors always spread like wildfire in that school.

And if the news traveled back to my father, and the Dark Lord…

They would destroy both of us.

Though, it's more likely that they would destroy me, as you're bloody Harry Potter. There doesn't seem to be much that can destroy you. But I'd like to think that you would go as crazy without me as I have been lately without you.

These thoughts, these likely consequences, were weighing heavily on my mind as I made my way up to the Room of Requirement that night. I entered the room to find you waiting for me. I sat next to you on the couch and you wrapped me in your arms, pulling the quilt over us.

I could lie in your arms forever, Harry.

Wake up.

We talked a long time that night. We worked a lot of things out, including how to handle our relationship; how to keep it a secret, how my father, Voldemort, our friends, our classmates, would react, and how to deal with it if they did find out. We agreed to not tell each other more than necessary about our roles in the war to keep each other as safe as possible. We promised not to let little things come between us.

Then we promised not to let the big things come between us either, because with each of us seemingly on different sides of this war, it wasn't safe.

I say 'seemingly.' You know what I mean. You know I always stand by you.

I realized that night just how much I loved you.

I still love you, with all of my being. I hate that this has happened to you. I hate that you lie there, alone, and I can't comfort you.

But you're not alone, are you? You have the Weasels, Gr- Hermione, and a few others. They get to see you. They get to hold you, comfort you, talk to you.

I want to be there, Harry.

Because I can't even imagine you not waking up anymore, even though I know that becomes more likely with each passing day. Each day you lie there unconscious, everyone's hope drops a little more.

We need you, Harry. You're our hero.

We need you to wake up.


	13. Monday, 6am

Monday, 6am 

We finally made love properly. Took us long enough, didn't it? I've never waited so long for anyone before. You're special though, Harry, and I don't regret it. Somehow, waiting only made me love you more.

We began our nightly session in the Room of Requirement as we usually did, with cocoa. We talked and laughed over menial things; classes, our friends, Quidditch. Then you cautiously moved the conversation to our relationship.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"Nowhere and everywhere, love," I replied cryptically.

You gave me the confused look that I expected, and I laughed. I admit, I love flustering you like that.

"Seriously, Draco," you said, and I conceded.

"I mean, I'm not ever letting you go, and our relationship can only grow from here. At least, that's what I'm hoping," I looked away as I said this. It's never easy for me to express emotions like that.

"I love you," you said.

It was the first time you said those words to me.

I looked up, amazed. Don't you think it's amazing how three little words can change so much? Our relationship suddenly felt like so much more than the teenage romance it was. It felt like a commitment, but one that I was ready and willing to take with you. It felt right.

"I lo- love you too," I stammered.

The love in your eyes was unmistakable. I set my mug on the table and wrapped you in my arms. You cuddled against me contentedly. I kissed the top of your head, and you kissed my neck.

Then you began licking at my neck, and nipping at the skin.

"Careful, love, you'll leave a mark," I said, enjoying it all the same.

"Good," you replied. "Then everyone will know you're spoken for."

"And just how do I explain the fact that I can't tell them who the lucky guy is?" I asked.

"I don't know, make something up. Aren't Slytherins supposed to be cunning?" you replied.

I pulled away from you and placed a hand beneath your chin. I was going to say something witty in response, but the lust in your beautiful green eyes knocked the words out of me. "Um…"

"Hmm, I guess not," you teased.

As I watched your sweet lips form the words, I lost control of my own lust. I captured those lips in a greedy kiss. Your lips parted, and I slid my tongue into your mouth. You moaned, and the vibrations seemed to travel straight to my groin.

I leaned forward, pushing you down so you were lying flat on the couch. My hands began to wander over your body, hastily pushing bothersome clothing out of the way.

Soon we were in a tangle of cloth and you laughed against my needy mouth.

I pulled away just long enough to say, "And what's so funny, Potter?"

"You're going to have to let me get up if you want these clothes out of the way," you replied. I smiled down at you, and you kissed me lightly.

I got up, pulling you with me, and in a matter of moments we had discarded our clothes and resumed our previous position. You ran your fingers along the Dark Mark on my arm, and I kissed your scar.

"Don't worry about it, love. I'm not going back to him willingly," I assured you.

"I know," you said.

"You're ready for this, right?" I asked.

"Yes," you replied with confidence. "I trust you, Draco."

We both knew you were talking about more than sex.

I kissed you deeply, and slid my hand down your body. My fingers danced along your hardened flesh, pressing and pumping in all the right spots. Your face was flushed, and you were making cute moaning noises in the back of your throat.

"Make love to me," you said in a husky voice.

My own need was peaking, and I readily obliged.

I muttered the lube spell, and slipped a finger in, and then another, stretching you. I wanted you to be comfortable.

"Okay, love?" I asked.

"Yes, more," you said.

I pulled my fingers out, and positioned myself. I kissed you tenderly and pushed into you. I waited for your muscles to relax around me. You reached up and pushed a stray piece of hair from my face.

"You're beautiful, Draco," you said, which was exactly what I was thinking about you.

You thrust your hips against mine, and I began pumping into you, and the love me made was perfect.

The way screamed my name at the end made it, if possible, even better.

Think of all the great sex we can have when you wake up.


	14. Monday, 11 am

Monday, 11 am

Grang- Hermione wants to go out for lunch with me again. I suppose I can indulge her, for your sake. She said she'll meet me here at noon.

I don't know what to talk about with her. I don't think she trusts me, even after everything I told her yesterday. But she seems to be making a genuine effort with me, which is more than I can say for anyone else around here. She's the only one who seems to think of me as more than The Death Eater Who Betrayed Harry Potter.

---

We kept our relationship a secret for a little longer. Among the other students, we acted as maliciously as ever toward one another, but we spent our nights alone, kissing, fucking, apologizing. We didn't mean all those hurtful things we said in the halls, during classes, on the pitch.

The pitch- Quidditch was our undoing, wasn't it? We were competitive as always, but it was different. That cold day in early March was the first time we played against each other since we first became involved.

The Gryffindors were always the biggest challenge for the Slytherins. I know we were your biggest challenge too. We played longer, harder, and more maliciously against each other than either of the other teams. Those were always my favorite games.

The Slytherins were only ten points behind Gryffindor when we both caught sight of the Snitch. We both dived after it, neck in neck the whole way, straight towards the ground.

About five feet up it swerved to the right, then straight up again. Neither of us missed a beat. I chanced a glance at you. You had this look of fierce determination, as if all that mattered in that moment were you and that little gold ball. To tell you the truth, it was slightly unnerving.

Over your shoulder, I saw something flying at us. "Bludger!" I called, and swerved away. But I guess you didn't hear me. Your concentration seemed to be wholly on that bloody Snitch.

I heard the Bludger hit you. I turned around just in time to see you lose your grip on your broom. I looked around the pitch quickly. I was the closest one to you, and damned if I was going to let the guy I had fallen so hard for die like that.

So I dived.

I swooped under you, caught you in my arms, and lowered you safely to the ground, slowly, to keep my balance while holding you. Do you remember? You were barely holding on to consciousness. The Bludger had hit your shoulder and scraped the side of your head.

Our slow descent gave everyone there plenty of time to assess the situation. Draco Malfoy had just saved Harry Potter, his rival since first year. Everyone thought we hated each other, but my actions showed otherwise.

I placed you on the ground and held you against me. I looked into your dazed green eyes and told you that you'd be okay. You were safe now. You were with me.

Our teammates rushed over.

"You saved me," you said. "My Angel."

"I'm not an angel, Harry," I countered. You shook your head.

You held up your hand, and for the first time I noticed you had the Snitch clutched in your fist. I took it from you. "You won."

You placed your head on my chest and I wrapped my arms protectively around you to wait for Madame Pomfrey.

Our teammates were demanding to know what the bloody hell was going on. I glared at them all.

"I'd appreciate it," I said slowly through gritted teeth, "If you would all back off and give my injured boyfriend room to breathe."

It was the first time I called you my boyfriend. I don't think you even remember. You were pretty out of it.

I watched the waves of shock and horror pass over their faces. Luckily, Madame Pomfrey showed up then to escort you to the hospital wing, so they didn't get the chance to say anything. I kissed your head and handed you over to her care.

Everyone watched. I think the idea of you and me together caused the Weasel - Ron - actual, physical pain. For a long time, whenever I needed a good laugh, I would dredge up that image to the surface of my mind. I'm sorry, Harry, but yes, your friends' pain has always provided me with much entertainment.

In retrospect, I shouldn't have said that; the boyfriend thing. I shouldn't have held you like that. I should have dropped you to the ground unceremoniously and let the Gryffindors take care of you. I could have given them some snide remark about seekers that can't hold onto their brooms, and left.

But I didn't. I was too worried about you.

But not nearly as worried as I am now.

Please wake up, Harry.


	15. Monday, 3pm

Monday, 3pm

I can't keep doing these lunches with Hermione. The long, awkward silences are killing me. We're trying to get along, for your sake, but there were all those years we spent arguing and name-calling. Remember in third year, when she punched me in the face? Yeah, I thought that would make you smile.

Please smile.

Wake up and smile for me.

---

We went to the same café, ordered the same food, and sat in the same place as yesterday. Then we ate in silence for a good ten minutes. A very, very awkward ten minutes.

Then she said, "If you loved each other so much, why couldn't you just tell your friends, like normal people?" She sounded hurt, and that surprised me.

"We're not normal," I answered. She nodded, but I could tell she wouldn't accept that as an answer, so I went on. "To protect each other. We were afraid that information might fall into the wrong hands."

"This was about the war, then," Hermione said.

"Of course. Anything the Dark Lord could use against Harry, he would," I confirmed.

"Why do you still call him that?" Hermione asked.

"What?" I knew what she meant, but I wanted a little more time to think about it.

"Why do you still call Voldemort the Dark Lord?" She said.

"I guess… it's… it was a sign of respect I was forced to use in the presence of other Death Eaters. I didn't respect that man… that creature… but I had to act like I did to save myself, and Harry too, once we had gotten together."

"He's dead now. We're all safe," Hermione insisted.

"I know," I said. "But it's habit now, the same way most people still call him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Hermione nodded, but I don't think she approved, merely understood. "Harry always insisted that everyone call him Voldemort. Fear of his name gave him power, just as giving him the title of 'Lord' did," she said.

"I know," I replied.

Another loooong silence. Then, suddenly, Quidditch.

"Who do you think will win the Cup this year?" Hermione asked. "I'm guessing the Irish, but Ron is hell-bent on the Cannons."

"I- what?" The question caught me completely off guard.

"Quidditch, Draco," she said. She smiled and rolled her eyes. "I'm trying to have a friendly conversation with you."

"Oh," I said unintelligently.

So we launched into professional Quidditch. The conversation eventually came around to our Hogwarts Quidditch teams, but it was still awkward. Forced.

She's not an easy person to have a conversation with, you know. She's so logical. She looks at all those statistics. Merlin, she sounds like a library book most of the time. I don't know how you deal with it, Harry.

She cares about you though. I can't deny that.

You have - it pains me to admit this, but you have good friends. They love you.

I love you.

We want you back, Harry.

Please, wake up.

---

Isn't it horrible? Even after that Quidditch game, most people still didn't think we were serious.

I stayed in the hospital wing that whole night with you, Harry. I climbed into the bed next to you and held you safely in my arms. Madam Pomfrey tried to kick me out, but the way you were clinging to me, and a few well-placed Malfoy glares changed her mind.

I couldn't leave you, alone and hurt like that.

I also couldn't face the other Slytherins yet.

---

We spent Sunday in the hospital wing, mulling over what to do about this situation. Our secret was out. We knew what the repercussions could be.

By dinnertime, we weren't any closer to a solution. Madam Pomfrey declared you well enough to leave, but insisted you come back immediately if you felt sick or light-headed.

We walked slowly down to the Great Hall hand in hand. Neither of us said anything. I suppose we were both thinking about what would happen the moment we walked in together.

It was terrible. Everyone looked at us. The whispers started, passing along rumors that had formed over the past day. Wondering just what the extent of our relationship was. You looked at the floor. I smirked and pulled your face up to mine, pulling you into a soft kiss.

If there was any doubt left in that room that we were together, it was gone with that kiss.

I felt your arms wrap around my shoulders, pulling me closer to you. You broke the kiss and hugged me. I glared at your friends over your shoulder. Granger - Hermione's eyes were wide and the W - Ron's mouth was hanging open, complete with half-chewed food. The Weaselette - it's Ginny, right? The Weaselette's face was bright red, and I couldn't tell if she was trying not to laugh or cry, or both at the same time. Longbottom was covering his eyes, murmuring something that Finnigan was laughing nervously at.

You pulled away from me.

"I have to go talk to my friends," you murmured. I nodded, and we went to our separate tables.

---

Can you imagine your friends' faces when they learn that our whole fight later was a trick, that we are still crazy in love with each other, just like we were on that day? That one kiss threw them for such a loop.

Wake up, Harry.


	16. Monday, 7pm

Monday, 7pm

Here's something I never told you: The Slytherins all thought it was a trick.

They thought that I was seducing you to break down your defenses, and once you had given up all the secrets of the Order, I would bring you before the Dark Lord to die.

Of course, it wasn't true. I don't know who cooked up that story, but it quickly became the running theory in our House. It made me angry, and within a few days, I was just looking for someone to take my frustration out on.

That lucky person turned out to be Blaise Zabini.

Blaise had been my friend since childhood, and the only guy I had ever had any real feelings for besides you. I probably should have told you this sooner. He hates you, not because of who you are, but because I love you. After our ill-fated affair in fourth year, he became jealous of everyone I liked, fucked, or just looked at in the wrong way. Blaise turned out to be a good friend, but a terrible ex-lover.

It was a week after the Quidditch match. People were giving you and me quite a bit of space, not knowing how to handle the situation. This suited us just fine. We walked into the Great Hall together, hand-in-hand, as usual. We split up after a kiss to sit with our respective Houses.

People stared, but that was to be expected. We are damn sexy, love.

I sat with my roommates. Then I realized that Crabbe and Goyle's fat heads were blocking my view of you, so I slid into the next seat down. Blaise sat in the now vacant chair between Theodore and me.

The enchanted ceiling showed a stormy sky that day, and that was fine by me. I wasn't exactly in a bright and sunny mood after all that had happened of late.

"So… you and Potter," Blaise started. I tensed. "I should congratulate you, Dragon. Only wish I had thought of it myself. It's too perfect."

"What are you talking about?" I asked through gritted teeth.

Blaise laughed. "Oh, don't play stupid. You're getting under his skin, making him think he can trust you."

"That's not why I'm with him," I said in a low voice. I glared at Blaise, trying to tell him to back off without insulting him. Though I shouldn't have bothered. Either he's completely dense or a foul git.

"No, really, Dragon, I commend you. The Dark Lord will reward you for this," Blaise continued. I was livid. "It's amazing, really. Who knew it would be so easy to seduce the Boy-Who-Should-Have-Died?"

I lost it then. I stood up and yelled, "You're a fucking idiot, Blaise!"

He stood up and took a few steps away from me. "Oh, come on, Dragon, you don't need to keep up the act with me."

I punched him, and broke his nose in the process. He dropped to his knees, clutching his face.

"My relationship with Harry is not an act! It is not a fling, a ruse, or just a fuck either. If you insult us again, I will not hesitate to resort to the Unforgivables." I kicked him for good measure. "And don't call me Dragon."

I could have continued, but I felt your arms around me then. "Draco, please stop," you whispered. I calmed and sunk into your embrace.

You pulled away and took my hand, leading me out of the Great Hall. When we were finally alone, you said, "I can't believe you did that." But you were smiling.

"Which part?" I asked, wrapping my arms around your neck. "The part where I told him off for insulting you, or the part where I punched him in the face?"

"The punching bit," you said.

I gave you a trademark Malfoy smirk. "What's wrong, Potter? You'd be deluding yourself if you thought I wasn't capable of such violence."

"Embarrassing and painful hexes are more your style," you said, returning the smirk.

Hmm, you were coming along quite nicely.

You tilted your head to the side, and I took that as an invitation to kiss you.

It's sweet, isn't it? The way I defend your honor? Although, I have to admit, I was defending my own honor as well. Couldn't have everyone thinking I was an arse and a shitty boyfriend.

Hmm, boyfriend. I love the way that sounds in connection to you. Harry Potter is my boyfriend.

My sweet, sexy, comatose boyfriend.

Oh, Merlin, Harry. Wake up!


	17. Tuesday, 4am

Tuesday, 4am

No one should be awake at this god-forsaken hour, but here we are. I can barely function without you. Eating is a chore, sleep is elusive. I'm getting thinner, and Hermione, the only person who will actually talk to me, tells me I look like crap.

Don't worry, she didn't use those words. They're a bit crude for her, aren't they? What she actually said was that I'm paler than usual, and I look like I haven't slept for a week.

"You always seem to put such great care into the way you look, Draco. You've been neglecting that lately," she said.

"I know," I replied. "I haven't taken the time… It doesn't seem to matter when Harry is… like this."

Look how pathetic I am without you, Harry.

I need you to wake up.

---

It didn't take very long for the rumors to leak out to my father, did it?

Well, I suppose they aren't really rumors if they're true.

What matters is that my father found out about us, Harry, and according to him, Malfoys are not gay. They also don't defy the Dark Lord, and they certainly don't fall in love with half-bloods. To make matters worse, the gay half-blood his son was fucking also happened to be the bane of the Dark Lord's existence.

I can only imagine what he was thinking. How angry he was.

---

I went back to the manor for the Easter holidays. It was hard to leave you. If I had known what was going to happen, I would have insisted to Mother that I needed to stay at Hogwarts to study. But I didn't.

I was completely unprepared for what awaited me.

It's taken me a while, but I think I can tell you the whole story now. I'm sorry for keeping the details from you. It just- hurt.

I had been home for two hours when my father accosted me.

I was in my room, reading after a quiet dinner with Mother. Suddenly he barged in. He grabbed the front of my robes, pulling me up off the bed. "Faggot!" He yelled.

I froze. It all happened so fast. His eyes held such contempt. Dull gray eyes, like mine. Reminding me that I was like him.

---

Yet I'm not, because of you.

If it weren't for you, Harry, I'm afraid I would have turned out just like him. I'm so glad you took me away from that path.

Wake up.

---

I was afraid.

When I didn't say anything, he threw me to the floor. My elbow hit the hard wood painfully, and my book flew from my hand.

"You are not gay," my father spat. "I will hear no more of you fucking that boy!"

I held my arm against my chest protectively, and shook my head. No. I couldn't do that.

"Are you defying me?" I had never seen Father so angry.

I looked up at him. "Yes," I said in barely a whisper. I could tell this was infuriating him, and I pushed it farther. "I love Harry Potter."

He kicked me in the stomach, and pain shot through my body. I curled into a little ball on the floor, waiting for the pain to subside.

"No more," he said. "Every time I hear that name, I will beat you. Every time you think of boys in that manner, I will make you wish to be dead. Do you understand?"

I did nothing.

"Draco, answer me!" I always hated when he used that tone of voice; angry and demanding. It meant that physical pain would be the punishment for disobedience. It meant that he had lost control, due to either raw anger or alcohol.

"Yes!" I said finally.

Then there was quiet while my father recomposed himself. I cringed, waiting for more blows, physical or verbal. When they didn't come, I pulled myself up into a sitting position.

He took a deep breath, and in a much calmer voice, said, "Good. Now, go to bed. We will be busy tomorrow."

I didn't ask what we would be doing. I really didn't want to know.


	18. Tuesday, 1pm

Tuesday, 1pm 

Lunch with Hermione today was short.

We got our usual meals, sat in our usual seats, and ate in our usual ten minutes or so of silence.

It's funny how quickly we fall into habit, isn't it?

She was the first to speak. She usually is.

"I'm worried about you, Draco," she said.

"I'm not the one you should be worrying about," I replied.

She understood. "I'm worried about Harry, too, but there's nothing I can do to help him right now."

"I don't need your help, Hermione," I said, a bit too sharply.

"Well, maybe I need your help, then!" she cried.

What the bloody hell was I supposed to say to that? I had no idea what she was getting at. So I stayed quiet.

"I mean, I want us to help each other get through this, whether Harry lives or… or not," she said, biting her lip.

"Ron too." She looked like she was about to cry.

I didn't know how to handle that. So I did what comes naturally to me: I lashed out.

"I don't need any help from Mudbloods and Blood-traitors," I said. It was harsh and unnecessary. Childish even. But there it was.

I got up and left then. I could feel her eyes on me as I walked away.

---

So, I bet you want to know what my father had planned for us the next day.

He woke Mother and I up early for breakfast, which we ate in silence. Then Severus joined us in our library.

---

Hermione would love the library in Malfoy Manor. It houses so many old and valuable books. I can easily picture her sitting in one of the big leather chairs in front of the fire, soaking up all the words the volumes have to offer.

Merlin, I shouldn't have said those things to her today. She's the only person making an effort with me, and I'm pushing her away. I'm terrible sometimes.

I can see you mocking me. "Sometimes?" You're saying with a raised eyebrow and that cute little half-smile you do that's not quite a smirk.

Maybe a lot of the time.

I am going insane. It's official. I'm hearing little Harry-like voices in my head now. Maybe I do need help.

Merlin. Why aren't you here to help me, Harry?

Oh, right. You won't wake up.

---

So, back to the library.

"Have you the assignment from the Dark Lord?" my father asked Severus.

He nodded.

"What assignment?" I asked, trying to stay in control.

Severus looked at me and frowned. "Regrettably, Draco, the Dark Lord has learned of your indiscretion. He wishes for you to prove your loyalty to him."

"And if I refuse?" I challenged.

Severus looked at my mother, then back at me. "You die, and your assignment at Hogwarts is passed on to another."

I tried to speak, but I couldn't find the words. I was terrified. So I just nodded in understanding.

Severus then relayed the mission. I was to take the life of an innocent man whose son was guilty of defying the Dark Lord.

Voldemort was very good at finding suitable punishments for his minions.

---

The man turned out to be the owner of Quality Quidditch Supplies. He was a generally easy-going wizard, but he was getting on in years. He wouldn't put up a fight against Death Eaters, and the message would be delivered.

Voldemort had gaven me an easy target.

When my father and I entered, there was one customer in the shop. We examined the brooms, as if we were looking to buy one, while we waited for him to leave. When the door shut behind the customer, my father quietly cast a locking spell on it and told me to do what I had to.

I hesitated and he gave me an evil look.

So I turned and approached the shopkeeper.

"How much for the Firebolt?" I asked.

"Seven-hundred Galleons," he answered.

My hand closed around my wand.

"A bit high," I said. Trying to keep conversation light. Trying not to think about what I was doing.

"If you don't like my prices you can go somewhere else." The shopkeeper frowned.

I pulled out my wand out and pointed it at him. "I don't think that will be necessary," I said. I pulled up the sleeve of my robe to reveal the Dark Mark. I kept my face as expressionless as I could.

The shopkeeper stumbled away from me, afraid.

I waved my wand and started the curse- "_Avada_-" I stopped. I gathered my courage and started again. "_Avada_-"

"What did I do?" the shopkeeper demanded. Tears were now streaming down his face.

I felt my father's disapproving hand on my shoulder.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" I yelled. The blinding green light shot from my wand, and the shopkeeper fell to the floor.

I couldn't move. My father had to drag me out of the shop.


	19. Tuesday, 9pm

Tuesday, 9pm

I cried today. For you, for me. For what we each had to do to fulfill our own obligations. I sat in the waiting room here at St Mungo's and sobbed for what seemed like hours. It probably was.

People stared at me, but it didn't matter anymore. Nothing did.

Nothing will matter until you wake up.

---

I had killed a man. I was horrible. I couldn't face myself. I spent that night crying into my pillow. I wanted to scream, punch something. But there was nothing that would take the pain away. So I just cried.

I didn't sleep that night, and I spent most of the next day in bed.

Finally my father stormed in, pulled me up, and told me to get dressed and be downstairs for dinner, lest I regret ever being born.

I took a cold shower and threw on some decent clothes.

My parents were both in the dining hall when I entered. No one said a word. I took my place between them, and a house-elf immediately appeared with soup.

Out of a silent three-course meal, I only managed to eat the soup and a bread roll. My father scowled, and my mother looked worried, but she knew better than to say anything in front of him.

When dinner was cleared away, Father announced that we had a meeting with the Dark Lord that night, and told us we had an hour to make ourselves appear presentable. He walked out of the room, and my Mother immediately rushed to me and gathered me in her arms.

"My poor little Dragon!" she said. I held onto her and tried not to start crying again.

---

We met Voldemort in the Riddle graveyard. This had become his favorite meeting place. It was dark, creepy, and had history to it. He stood before his horrible Muggle father's grave and gestured for the three of us to bow before him. We did.

When we stood, he spoke only to me. "It seems you have redeemed yourself, Draco."

I stood silent. I was afraid that if I spoke, my voice would quiver and give me away.

"I will hear no more rumors of you being in 'love' with my archenemy now, will I?" he asked.

I gathered my strength. "No, sir."

"Good. But since you have become close to the Potter boy, we can use this to our advantage. Keep him in your sights, Draco. If he trusts you he will let his guard down."

I nodded. There was a short silence. I felt the Dark Lord using Legilimency to gain access to my mind. I tried to think evil thoughts, but he found what he was looking for.

"Ah, interesting. It seems that you hesitated today before completing your task," he said.

I did nothing.

"Well, you'll have to be punished, then." He raised his wand as he said this.

_Whatever he does, I won't react, _I vowed. _I won't give him the satisfaction._

His wand was pointed at me, but then he appeared to change his mind. He shifted his aim to my mother. My eyes went wide with fear for her, but I stuck by my vow.

"_Crucio!_"

My mother screamed and sank to her knees next to me. I didn't take my eyes off the Dark- I mean Voldemort. I've been trying to use his name more, like you said I should.

I don't know how long this went on, but eventually I yelled, "Stop it!"

"Self-control, Draco," Voldemort said. He didn't stop.

My mother's screams of agony rang in my ears. "No!" I cried.

"You need to learn to control your emotions," he said.

I wanted to scream at him, to pull my wand on him. But I didn't. I sat back and hoped that he would stop before he drove her insane.

Finally he let it go.

My mother lay on the ground, breathing heavily. I wanted to rush over and comfort her, but knew he would just torture us both if I did.

So I remained still. He watched me.

Through the whole thing my father had remained rigid and silent.

Merlin, I hated them both.

Finally Voldemort dismissed us and walked away to speak with other Death Eaters. I collapsed in relief next to my mother.


	20. Wednesday, 8am

Wednesday, 8am

When I went back to Hogwarts I wanted to tell you what had happened, but it hurt so much. So I left out a lot of details. Like the Quidditch shop.

I'm sorry. It was just too painful. I felt terrible, as if I was lying to you. And I guess I was. Lying by omission isn't much better than outright lying, is it?

You comforted me and told me you'd think of something.

---

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Severus was teaching us advanced tactics for fighting curses meant to torture.

He knew what had happened, and was he rubbing it in. I glared at him for the full duration of the lesson, and sensing my distress, you held my hand.

He hated you just as much as I know you hated him.

Don't worry. He's dead now.

Did you know that? Will you even remember what happened during that last battle? So many people on both sides fell that night. Those of us who survived will have nightmares about it for years to come.

---

Severus had upset me so much that in our next lesson, Transfiguration, I couldn't concentrate. I managed to turn my rat into a lumpy green goo, while your rat was soon the dove it was supposed to be. You gathered me in your arms and kissed my head.

"I'm sorry, Draco," you said.

You had no reason to be sorry. You didn't even know the worst of it.

I had brought everything upon myself.

When I didn't say anything, you continued. "You know you can talk to me. I'll be here when you're ready."

"Thank you," I whispered, and buried my face against your chest.

Words like 'please' and 'thank you' and 'sorry' do not come easily to me. In fact, I don't think they were a part of my vocabulary until you came into my life.

After a few moments Professor McGonagall approached us.

"I understand you are both under a great deal of stress at the moment, but I will not tolerate this public display of affection in my classroom," she said.

"I'm sorry, Professor," you said, loosening your grip on me.

Her expression softened. "If Mister Malfoy is not feeling well, I suggest you take him to the hospital wing for a Calming Potion," she said to you.

"Thank you," you said, and walked me out of the room with a supportive arm around my waist.

---

The Calming Potion didn't really help, and Madam Pomfrey ended up giving me a Sleeping Draught instead, after I told her I had hardly slept in the last week.

You stayed with me. You didn't have to, but you stayed next to my bed in the hospital wing the whole time I was asleep. You're amazing, Harry. You do these things for me, and I don't deserve them. It was bad enough that I had spent five and a half years fighting with you and making fun of your friends, but I was also a Death Eater, and now I had killed an innocent man.

Sometimes I think you deserve better than me.

But I know how much we love each other. I know you bring out the good in me.

I love you, Harry.

Please, wake up.

---

When I woke up you were sitting next to me attempting to do a paper for Potions. When you saw that I was awake you closed your book and pushed your parchment aside. You smiled. You have this adorable, warm smile. I can't ever help but to smile back.

You sat on the edge of my bed. I held my arms out to you, and you sank into them. When I am in your arms, Harry, I feel safe.

"How long have I been asleep?" I asked.

"About four hours," you said, checking your watch.

"You stayed with me the whole time?" I asked.

"Of course," you replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It gave me a lot of time to think."

"About what?" I asked.

You pulled away from me a bit. Green eyes captured mine. Your eyes are beautiful. I think I've developed an obsession with them. When you look at me that way I would agree to any words that passed your lips.

"We can win this war, Draco," you whispered. "I have a plan."

I tensed.

"You trust me, right?" you asked.

I looked into your pretty eyes. "Yes," I said with some measure of confidence.

You pulled me into a tight hug and told me what we would need to do. To anyone who chanced upon us, it must have looked like you were whispering sweet nothings into my ear, as if I were sick and you were comforting me.

The things you were saying were definitely not comforting.


	21. Wednesday, 12pm

Wednesday, 12pm

Hermione hasn't approached me about lunch, so I'll just keep writing. I'm not hungry anyway.

I guess I hurt her. I suppose I should apologize, but you know I'm terrible at that sort of thing.

---

Okay, on to Part One of Harry's Plan:

Everyone had to believe that we were madly in love with each other. Everyone. Not just the students at Hogwarts, not just the people we saw every day, but the whole bloody wizarding world. If they didn't, Part Two of your Plan wouldn't have a big enough impact.

We spent every day together. We acted like the perfect couple, drawing our inspiration on the stereotype of the ideal. We acted happy, as if there wasn't a war going on around us. You talked Hermione and Weasel into believing it, and the rest of Gryffindor was soon to follow. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and the faculty weren't far behind.

Slytherin was a challenge, but after I had hexed a few people in your defense, they came around.

The news spread. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were dating. It was in The Quibbler, and the rumors section of Witch Weekly.

Then you brought Rita Skeeter in.

She is a vile woman. I don't know how you managed to gain her trust, but I commend you for it. You and Hermione have some sort of control over her, and that works to our advantage.

We met her at the Three Broomsticks. You bought us all Butterbeers. You and I cuddled on one side of the table while she sat on the other, her Quick-Quotes Quill moving furiously.

Why does everything she says sound so dramatic?

"Two young boys fall in love, despite their different backgrounds. On one side we have our champion of light, Harry Potter, destined to save us all from the evils of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. On the other we have Draco Malfoy, child of darkness, son of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name's-"

"Voldemort," you interrupted her. "I want you to use his name."

She looked like she wanted to protest, but nodded. "Vol-de-mort," she enunciated. She cleared her throat and continued.

"Son of Voldemort's favorite Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy. How are you two able to overcome these stereotypes?"

You looked at me, then gave her a big, sappy smile. "Love, Rita," you started. I listened while you gave her a long cheesy explanation of how "love conquers all." I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

"Oh, isn't that sweet?" she said. "But our readers are dying to know just how two former enemies like yourselves could put aside your differences? Was there one moment where you just gave it all up for love?"

"No," I answered. "It was more like a series of moments; long talks spent getting to know each other."

And it continued, with us answering a lot of silly questions and her rambling on about the "power of love."

Finally she asked the question I had been dreading:

"What do your friends and respective families think about your relationship?" she asked.

You pulled me closer and quickly launched into an answer. "Our friends support us, though when they first found out most of them… well, let's just say it took them a while to understand."

"And your families?" Rita pushed.

"My Muggle aunt and uncle don't know, and I really don't care what they think anyway. They treated me like crap when I was a child, not even telling me what I was. The people I now consider my family support us," you said.

"And _your_ family, Draco?" Merlin, this woman was not going to give up.

I tensed as I gave my answer. "You said it yourself, my father is Voldemort's favorite Death Eater. Obviously, he doesn't support us." I gave her a glare that told her this leg of the conversation was done.

She finished with another question I didn't want to answer. "Well, we all know which side of the war Harry is on, but what about you, Draco?"

"I am on the side that doesn't want the guy I love dead," I replied, absently tugging on my left sleeve.

It was a small gesture, but she caught it, and raised an eyebrow. You grabbed my hand and pulled me into another hug. You know me so well, and you always know exactly what I need.

Right now I need you to wake up.

"If that's all…" you prompted.

"Oh, yes. I just need a picture," Rita said, holding up a large camera.

You placed a hand under my chin and brought your lips to mine. She took the picture and thanked us. Not the most romantic kiss I can remember, but then that interview wasn't about romance. It was about your Plan.


	22. Wednesday 5pm

Wednesday, 5pm

The interview appeared on the front page of The Daily Prophet. Any remaining doubts regarding our relationship were quenched by the rather large photo that played next to it.

For a few weeks we acted like the perfect couple, but as May dawned and the war progressed, tension seemed to be building between us.

We were getting ready for Part Two of Harry's Plan: the Betrayal.

Everyone had to believe the war had finally gotten to us. That was the easy part. Knowing my past and my family, most people would readily accept that I would hurt you. I was to go begging back to Voldemort and my father, apologizing for my indiscretion. I was to bring fake information about the Order to Voldemort, so it would look like I had been playing the part of the spy for some time.

Our fight had to be huge, hurtful, and very public.

---

In public we acted like we were having problems, like we were suddenly growing distant because of the war. We let little insults slip, and were often caught bickering quietly. It was all fake, but it was enough to make people believe what we wanted them to.

After nearly two weeks of this, we met in private to talk about the fight. We lay together on the familiar couch in the Room of Requirement, wishing it didn't have to be this way. But you had been right when you said this was the safest way to end the war, for both of us.

We spoke of how to start our fight, where to do it, and what would hurt each of us the most. For location, we decided on the streets of Hogsmeade, and the time would be the following weekend. Then we apologized in advance for everything we'd have to put each other through.

We hugged each other close. I kissed you. I felt wetness against my cheek and I realized you were crying. I pulled back to look into your eyes. I saw a lot of hurt in them, but I also saw hope.

As long as we could remember just how much we loved each other, we would be okay.

I cupped your face in my hands and brushed away your tears with my fingertips.

"Don't worry, Harry," I said. "We'll win this war, and then we'll be together."

You nodded, and then claimed my lips with yours. Our kiss deepened. I parted my lips, and you slipped your tongue into my mouth. Our roaming hands found their way to the warm skin beneath our clothes.

When we made love that night, it was slow and passionate. We knew we wouldn't be able to do this again until after Voldemort was dead.

Afterwards we cuddled together, naked beneath the thick quilt. I love feeling your bare skin against mine. I love the way you feel wrapped around me, inside of me.

I love you.

Please, wake up.

---

Slowly we began a conversation, tentatively at first, as if we were afraid to break the silence.

"I love you, Harry," I said.

"I love you too, Angel," you replied.

"Why did you choose that nickname for me?" I asked, curious.

"Why? Don't you like it?" You looked worried, and I smiled reassuringly.

"It's fine," I said. "I was just wondering why."

"When I fell off my broom, and you caught me…" you paused, seeming unsure yourself. "I don't know. You looked like an angel in the sunlight. It just seemed to suit you. But if you don't like it…"

"No, I like it. It makes me feel good. I like it a lot better than Dragon," I said.

"Who calls you Dragon?" you asked with a smile.

"My Mother does," I replied. "Blaise… sometimes Blaise uses it. I grew up with him, so he knew that's what Mother called me. When we… got closer… he started using it."

A short silence followed. I guess you didn't know how to respond to that.

"We won't be able to be together at all until after the war," I said, changing the subject.

"I know," you replied quietly. "I'll miss you."

I gave you a squeeze and kissed you. "So will I."

It's after the war now, Harry. We can be together.

Wake up.


	23. Wednesday, 11pm

Wednesday, 11pm 

We walked to Hogsmeade together. We didn't hold hands. We talked, but didn't smile. You did a lot of that nervous hand-talking. Everyone around us could tell that something was wrong.

We got Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. Madame Rosmerta asked us what was wrong, and you gave her a fake smile and told her it was nothing to worry about. We hardly spoke as we finished our drinks.

Once we were outside we started.

The sun was bright that day. The trees were flowering. We should have been happy together, holding hands and laughing about the stupid things Hufflepuffs do, or something equally mundane, in the warm spring atmosphere. But we weren't.

"Ready?" you whispered.

"As I'll ever be," I replied.

You raised your voice. "I don't understand."

"What's not to understand, Potter?" I challenged.

"You said you were done with all of that!" you cried.

People were starting to take notice. Good.

"Yeah, well, things change," I said as coolly as I could.

"What happened, Draco?" you asked.

"Nothing happened. I just chose my allegiance, and you don't like it," I said louder.

"People don't just change their minds like that!" you yelled.

People were definitely staring now.

"Maybe you're right! Maybe I never changed to your side of the war in the first place!" I yelled.

I turned, to make it look like I was walking away, but you grabbed my arm, like I knew you would. I let you pull up the sleeve of my robe. We let everyone around us see the Mark on my arm.

"Why would you do this?" you asked. You looked hurt. Like you could start crying at any minute.

"Power," I replied. "The world you want to live in is weak. The Dark Lord will create an elite society, an ideal!" I declared. Oh, how that hurt. I knew it wasn't true, of course, but that's what people like my father believed, so those were the arguments I used.

"So you're just going to crawl back to that creature and your father?" you said.

"How dare you refer to the greatest leader of our time as a creature?" I pulled my arm from your grasp.

"He is vile and twisted. He should be dead!" You were running out of creative insults.

"You will die, Potter. You and those Mudbloods and Blood-Traitors you associate yourself with," I said with a scowl.

There was silence. The crowd around us waited for your response. Merlin, they were hanging on our every word.

"You- you'd let me die, then?" You said this quietly, but the words hung heavily between us.

"For the Dark Lord, for my mother and father, yes, I would let you die." It hurt so much to say that. It took all my strength to keep my voice steady.

The tears that had been threatening to escape during the whole argument started flowing from your eyes. Your beautiful green eyes. Thankfully, you turned away from me. If you had kept looking at me with those big, tearful eyes I don't know if I could have retained my composure.

I didn't look at you as I reached for my wand. "I regret having to do this to you, Harry," I said.

You turned back to me as I lifted my wand, fear written in volumes across your face.

Then suddenly, " i Expelliarmus/i " My wand flew from my hand and we both looked in the direction of the voice.

The Weasel stood at the edge of the circle of onlookers, wand firmly pointed at me.

You had been right, Harry. Your friends would protect you.

Relief washed over me, but I didn't show it

More of your friends appeared beside the Weasel, wands at the ready. "Get away from him or you'll be hexed five times over, Malfoy," he threatened.

"Six," Hermione mouthed to him.

Weasel looked to his left and right, re-counting the number of Potter-supporters with their wands out. Himself, Hermione, the Weaselette, Loony Lovegood, Finnigan, and the ever-hopeless Longbottom.

"Six times over," he amended.

I laughed at his incompetence, until Tonks showed up. Damn, if my cousin was there, there would me more Aurors close by.

"Don't worry," I called out with a smirk. "He won't survive this war. Once the Dark Lord gets a hold of your precious Golden Boy, this will all be over." I Apparated to the Shrieking Shack and took the secret passageway back to Hogwarts. I went up to the Room of Requirement and cried.

I imagine as soon as I left your friends ran up to you and started asking questions. I hope you were okay. I hope you realize that I love you, and that was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

I don't want you to die, Harry. Not then, and not now.

Please, wake up.


	24. Thursday, 9am

Thursday, 9am

I think writing this is the only thing that keeps me sane. I watch the mediwizards go in and out of your room all day, waiting, hoping one of them will take pity and tell me something.

Hah, that's funny right? Malfoys don't accept pity. But you are worth it. For you, I can change. For you and you alone, I can leave my past, forget the twisted ideas that have been drilled into me since childhood. For you, I can stop being a Malfoy, and just be Draco.

The mediwizards all know who I am and why I'm here. I made sure of that. I told them you're my boyfriend, and they looked at me like I was insane, or at the very least, delusional. But we know it's true. You and me, love, that's what matters.

We spent all that time and effort making people believe we hated each other. We did a pretty damn good job, didn't we?

So, now we need to convince them that it was all a ruse. We need to prove to them all that we never actually stopped loving each other.

You need to wake up, Harry, so we can.

---

After the fight we went back to our respective sides of the war. I continued carrying out the task Voldemort had given me all those months ago, and you continued whatever it was you were doing with Dumbledore. You never did tell me. You said it was stuff for the Order. It was probably something to do with the Horcruxes you refused to tell me about. You only ever told me about the snake.

And then there was the Battle of the Tower. You know what happened. I still can't talk about it, really. I was supposed to lure Dumbledore to the top to… to kill him. But I panicked… and you were with him… I couldn't see you, but there were two brooms, and you had been missing all night… I just knew you were there. And then Severus… well, you know.

It hurt me so much. I knew how close you were to him, and I… I just couldn't, despite Voldemort's threats.

Dumbledore was right. Sometimes I think he knew me better than I know myself. You've spent a lot of time with him. Didn't you ever get that impression?

In the end, Severus did it, and he took the blame for my failure. I'm still not sure how he managed that.

I still want to cry when I think about it all.

---

Classes ended for the summer. You went back to your Muggle family, and I went back to Malfoy Manor. I begged my father's forgiveness, and pledged allegiance to the Dark Lord; Voldemort, I mean.

He gave me a trial. I killed some innocent Muggles. Then he accepted me. I became cold-hearted. I became exactly what my father wanted me to be. He was so proud.

---

We waited, you and me. That was your Plan, to wait until Voldemort gave us an opening. We didn't correspond with each other. Neither of us spoke of the other.

Then, the opportunity arose, in early August. I sent you an owl. The message simply said, "Tuesday." You knew what it meant.

Part Three of Harry's Plan involved me bringing the last Horcrux to you.

We had chosen a remote place for the Final Battle. It was a wide meadow a mile or so outside of Hogsmeade, away from Hogwarts, away from the villages, away from the Muggles.

On Sunday morning the Dark Lord left England for a bit of business. He took several of his most loyal Death Eaters, including my father, with him. He left three others (Avery, and Goyle, and myself) to look after affairs in England while he was away.

On Monday I convinced Goyle that there was a problem in London. He left his post, and fell right into the hands of the Aurors you had waiting.

On Tuesday morning I slipped a bit of Draught of Living Death into Avery's lunch. Or, rather, quite a lot of it. I used a Stunning Spell to incapacitate Voldemort's snake, and Apparated with it to our chosen battleground.

Before I did, though, I left a note in your handwriting.

i I have something close to you.

If you want it back, come find me in Merridan Meadow, outside the village of Hogsmeade.

Tonight, we end this.

Harry Potter. /i

I didn't know if it would work, didn't know if he would believe it. But it was worth a try.

That day I saw you for the first time in nearly two months. I wanted to run up, kiss you, and promise anything I had to in order to have you back in my life. But it wasn't the time for such sentiments.

It was the time for war.


	25. Thursday, 2pm

Thursday, 2pm

Hermione approached me about two hours ago.

"Hi, Draco," she said.

I looked up, but didn't say anything.

She bit her lip in that nervous habit she has. "Can I sit here?"

She gestured to the seat next to me, and I shrugged. She sat gingerly on the edge of the chair.

"What have you been writing?" she asked.

"Nothing," I replied.

"The way you've been working on it, it can't be nothing," she said with a kind smile. Merlin, she was trying so hard to be nice to me.

"A letter," I said, and glared at her, letting her know the subject was not up for discussion.

"I see," she said. There was a pause, and then, "Would you like to go out for lunch with me?"

I smirked. "What's wrong, Granger, can't get enough of me?"

She rolled her eyes, but played along. "That's exactly it, Malfoy. You're so bloody charming, I just can't imagine spending a day without your company."

I never knew Hermione could be sarcastic. I suppose that's rare.

I shoved my papers and Self-Inking Quill into my bag, and got up. I started walking toward the door, but soon realized Hermione wasn't following me. I turned back, and she looked up at me with confusion written across her face.

"Well, are we getting lunch or not?" I asked.

She smiled and followed me out.

---

At the café we got our food, sat at our table, and for once, I was the one to break the usual ten-minute silence.

"I didn't mean what I said… about Mudbloods and… um… you know," I said pathetically.

"I gathered as much," Hermione replied. "I do care, though. My offer still stands."

"The one where we help each other?" I asked.

She nodded.

"Isn't that what we're doing now?" I asked. She looked puzzled, so I continued. "We come here every day, to talk, but really, I wouldn't even be eating lunch if we didn't."

"Yeah, I guess we are helping each other," Hermione said, and smiled. She thought for a moment, then said, "Did you eat anything yesterday?"

I frowned. "Helping each other doesn't mean you get to act like my mother."

"I'm sorry. I was just wondering," she said.

I sipped my coffee, taking my time before continuing the conversation. "Yesterday I ate some dry cereal, and a plate of food from the hospital cafeteria, which I threw up an hour later."

"I can't say I'm faring much better," she replied.

We ate in silence for a few moments.

"Where is your mother?" Hermione asked me. The question was sudden, and surprised me.

When I had regained my composure I said, "I don't know."

I really don't. She disappeared after the Final Battle. I'd like to think she's not dead, but that seems highly unlikely.

"Is she… um… like your father?" Hermione asked.

I sneered. "You mean evil, callous, and willing to sacrifice herself to a tyrant? No."

Hermione frowned at my choice of words. "Did they… love each other?" she asked.

"At some point, I suppose they must have, but by the time I was old enough to understand the complexities of what was going on, both within our family and with Voldemort, any love between them had become… strained."

"I can't imagine what it must have been like growing up with that. It seems so tense," Hermione said.

"My mother loved me, and my father taught me how to be a Malfoy. He bestowed his beliefs on me as fact, which is why I treated you and Wea- Ron so terribly for so long. I was unable to distinguish the two," I said. It was an apology. You know I'm bad with those, Harry. You're the only person I've ever managed a decent apology for.

But Hermione seemed to understand.

So, you see? We're okay, Hermione and me. I managed to make friends with the Mudblood. At the end of lunch, she even said she supports our relationship, if you still want me. And I know you do.

You can wake up now, Harry.

Please, please, wake up.


	26. Thursday, 8 pm

Thursday, 8pm

I should stop avoiding the Final Battle. It's important. It's the whole reason for your current state. So far, pretty much everyone who was there has avoided talking about it. I suppose, in time, it will become easier, but for now, it still hurts.

---

I arrived in the meadow at dusk, with the snake in my arms. You were standing in the middle, with the members of the Order circling the area. There was an Auror on each side of you, and Mad-Eye Moody was at your back. I dropped the snake at your feet.

Like I said before, I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to grab you, Apparate away, and never worry about any of this mess again. I had missed you so much. But I kept my emotions in check.

"Potter," I said, as a greeting.

"Malfoy," you acknowledged. The two Aurors by your side, neither of whom I recognized, had their wands trained on me. Moody wasn't facing me, but I'll bet you anything that magical eye of his was.

One of the Aurors whispered something to you.

"No," you said. "Don't hurt him. But hold him back, and keep your wand on him. He's more powerful than he appears, so don't let him out of your sight." You took my own wand away from me.

The two Aurors grabbed me and pulled me roughly to the ground. One held me down, and the other held his wand to my neck.

You leaned down, and said, "Be afraid, Draco."

I nodded. This was part of your Plan.

You propped the head of the unconscious snake against your left arm, and held your wand tightly in your right hand.

We waited.

We didn't have to wait long. With a series of loud cracks, the meadow was full of Death Eaters, and at the center of them, stood Voldemort.

It was silent for a moment as everyone assessed the situation. Then you pointed your wand at the snake.

" i Avada Kedavra! /i "

You dropped the limp creature to the ground.

A few of the Death Eaters moved to start fighting, but the Dar - I mean Voldemort - stopped them. "Harry Potter," he said, moving closer, "are you prepared to die today?"

"If you move any closer I'll kill your loyal little Death Eater," you said, pointing your wand at me. I knew it was an empty threat, but at that point logic was beyond me, and I became scared.

"What's one boy when I have so many loyal friends?" Voldemort hissed, gesturing to the Death Eaters around him.

You grabbed the front of my shirt, pulled me up, and pointed your wand at my chest. Voldemort took another step closer.

Then you did something completely unexpected. You pulled me into a deep kiss.

That wasn't part of your Plan, but I wasn't going to argue. I kissed you back eagerly.

The world seemed to freeze as everyone watched us. You pulled away, and I smiled. Voldemort was fuming. You pointed your wand at him, yelled out a hex, and he blocked it.

After that, the battle began.

Amidst the chaos, you dropped my wand and let me go. I grabbed the piece of wood and started fighting for you.

It's all pretty much a blur after that. I killed a few Death Eaters, battled several more. I wasted a lot of time battling Order members, who were convinced that I had bewitched you somehow. One of them would single me out, throw a hex my way, and I would block it and shout something like, "I'm on your side, damn it!" But they didn't believe me.

So many people died. I specifically remember watching Charlie Weasely fall. You can't miss the Weasleys with their shockingly red hair. I was busy with trying not to get killed by another Auror who didn't believe I was on the same side as him. I saw Charlie, and I saw the green light.

"No!" I yelled. But of course there was nothing I could do.

Three of the Weaslelys are dead. Arthur, Charlie, and Percy. I'm sorry. I know that will hurt you. I still don't like them, but for you, I can act civil toward them.

The battle felt like it went on for ages, but it wasn't that long at all.

We all stopped fighting when we heard you scream. You fell to the ground, but when your friends rushed over, you yelled for them to stay back. You pulled yourself up, breathing hard.

You and Voldemort stood about twenty feet apart, both with your wands raised. You both looked terrible, like the next good curse would finish you off.

The world stilled around you once again.

Then you both yelled simultaneously " i Avada Kedavra! /i " There was a blinding flash of green light, and you both fell to the ground.

I rushed to you, as did several other people. Most bystanders, however, were frozen in shock.

I reached you first. I dropped down beside you and pulled you into my arms, sobbing. I felt everyone's eyes on me.

"Harry!" I cried.

Then there were hands on me, pulling me away. Voices in my ear saying, "Get off of him!" and "Traitor!" and "Haven't you hurt him enough already?"

"No!" I tried to yell at them, tell them they were wrong, but nothing I said made any difference. I struggled, but strong arms pulled me away.

"Harry!" I yelled again. I looked around desperately. "I love him!" I announced; but my declaration went unheeded.

Then there were people all around you, and I couldn't get close.

I heard Hermione's voice rise above the others. "He's alive!" she cried. "We have to get him to St. Mungo's!"

My heart skipped a beat. You were alive! "Harry!" I cried again, as if that would do any good.

They Apparated you away, and I looked over at Voldemort. There were a few Death Eaters around him, poking at the shriveled mess that was left of his body. I closed my eyes and Apparated here.


	27. Friday, 11am

  
Friday, 11am

They're letting more people in to see you now: friends, members of the Order, the Weasels.

Tonks, again. She always gives me this pity-look, like she can't believe I'm still sitting here. I've taken to glaring at her every chance I get.

Professor Lupin? What hell-hole did he come from? I thought he was dead. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. Why does he always have that foul stench around him? He smells like the Forbidden Forest on a rotten day.

But the point is, they still won't let me see you. I suppose they think that anyone with the Dark Mark will just go in there to finish you off. Haven't they ever heard of spies?

Besides, I could have finished you off that night. I could have just… but I would never...

I love you.

Wake up, Harry, please wake up.

I can't go on without you.

I… I bought a draught of Eternal Sleep a few days ago. I wasn't going to tell you, but here it is. I won't have to live without you. We'll be together, whether in life or in death.

I'm sorry. It's not the bravest way to deal with this, but I just don't know what to do anymore. I wish I had the sort of courage that you do, but I'm not... Well, I was raised to be proud, not brave.

---

Hermione is here now. She's been talking to one of your doctors all morning. Maybe something is going on. Maybe she'll tell me at lunch.

Merlin, this is hell on my nerves.

---

There's nothing left to write about, really. This is everything that's happened, all I have to say. I guess, since our past is here, and our present is kind of in limbo, that only leaves our future. If there is one. I'll have to think about that.


	28. Friday, 5pm

Friday, 5pm

At noon Hermione approached me for lunch, and we walked out of St. Mungo's together.

It's was nice day. There were birds and flowers, and it all seemed so wrong because of the state you were in. With me being so miserable, it didn't seem fair that the world around us should be so bright.

Then Hermione changed everything.

"I have good news," she said once we were out in the sunlight. "The doctors say Harry's condition has stabilized. He's not awake yet, but he's definitely going to pull through."

I stopped walking. She stopped a few steps later and turned back to me, head cocked to the side, waiting for my reaction.

"Are you serious?" I asked. Part of me didn't quite believe her.

She nodded and smiled, and there was such relief in her eyes. Then I did something that surprised even me. I grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug.

That's right. I, Draco Malfoy, hugged Hermione Granger.

And, amazingly, the world did not end.

She laughed and hugged me back.

"I'm sorry," I said, pulling away. "I'm just so… so…"

"Relieved?" Hermione finished for me. We started walking again.

"Well, yes. And excited," I said.

"I know how you feel. The moment I found out, it was like… it was like I had been holding my breath this whole time, and all of a sudden, I could breathe again."

I held the café door open for her, and we wandered to the counter to order.

"I've never been so stressed out in my whole life," she said, and I nodded in agreement.

We stood in silence until we got our trays of food, both of us pondering the enormity of the situation.

You were going to be okay.

You weren't going to… to die.

I suddenly realized how real that possibility had been. We had all been essentially preparing for your… for that. But now that didn't matter any longer, because you were going to live.

"Do they know what happened, exactly?" I asked when we sat down.

"No, but we think that Harry's spell was stronger, so it hit Voldemort, but also, when the two spells met they created a backlash that hit, but didn't kill, Harry," Hermione explained.

"Oh," I said unintelligently. I took a bite of my sandwich while I let this information settle into my brain.

"I have more good news, but I'm going to wait until you've swallowed that so you don't choke when I tell you," Hermione said with a smile.

I looked at her curiously and swallowed.

"I've been talking to one of Harry's doctors," Hermione said. "About you."

I frowned.

"I know how much you want to see him, but I also know that I'm the only one who doesn't think you want to curse him. Well, with the exception of Luna Lovegood, but honestly, the things she believes... well, her word doesn't hold much weight." She laughed, and so did I, and I wasn't even sure why.

"Anyway," she continued, "I convinced him to let you see Harry."

I wanted to jump up and kiss her.

Yes, that's right. I seriously considered doing it, too, but I restrained myself.

"What- how?" I was just so eloquent today. "Really?"

"Yes, really," she said. "But under the condition that an Auror stays in the room with you, and you leave your wand at the desk in the waiting area."

"Why- you know, I don't care. It's fine, I just want to see him," I said.

She nodded.

"So, let's go," I said, getting up.

She grabbed my arm. "Sit down, Draco."

"But I get to see Harry!" I said. Okay, so it was more of a whine.

"Tomorrow," Hermione said.

"What?" I frowned.

"Tonks will be here tomorrow morning, and you'll go in with her," Hermione said.

"Oh." I sat back down.

"I'm sorry. It's the best I could do," she said.

I wanted to sneer at her, tell her it wasn't good enough. You know how impatient I am, Harry.

Instead I said, "No, it's okay. I'm just glad I get to see him at all."

We spent the rest of lunch chattering about nothing important, and just being amicable. It was a good change.


	29. Saturday, 1am

Saturday, 1am

I can't sleep; I'm too excited. I keep thinking about everything we're going to do when you get out of here. First we'll let everyone know how stupid they've been. We'll tell them about your Plan, and that we never stopped loving each other. They'll feel like a right bunch of cretins for not letting me see you.

You'll come to my trial, and all my Death Eater charges will be dropped, because, come on, you're the Boy-Who-Saved-Our-Arses. Everyone loves you. You can request just about anything at this point, and they'll hand it over and bow before you.

Then we'll buy a house in the country, just like you've always wanted.

Remember when you told me that? You said you wanted a place away from the fame you've accumulated, and something completely different from your life with the Dursleys. You said you admired The Burrow for its quaintness and the way you always felt at home there. So we'll get a cute little house in the countryside, next to a private lake, away from the busy city.

Well, not too little. I still intend to live a life of luxury. Maybe fifteen, twenty rooms?

Something quite a bit more upscale than the Weasel home, anyway. With a big yard, and a balcony overlooking the grounds. We'll find your perfect home. You know, white picket fence and all that.

Hermione will always be welcome, and I suppose as long as she's dating the Weasel he can come too, but it's Hermione who matters. Without her I don't think I could have gotten through this. In fact, I'm pretty sure they would have banned me from the building if it hadn't been for her.

I can introduce you to my friends. Blaise and Pansy have been my best friends since I was little. I know you've technically met them, but I had technically met Hermione plenty of times as well, but this was the first time I really got to know her. So I want to properly introduce you to Blaise and Pansy.

I know Blaise did some pretty bad stuff, but everyone's allowed his mistakes. The two of us are still close.

You can properly introduce me to your other friends, and maybe I'll be able to see the things you see in them. Like, why you hang around with halfwits - I mean people like Longbottom and Lovegood. I'll try, I really will. I mean, if I can get along with Hermione, getting along with the others shouldn't be that hard, right?

For you, Harry, it's worth it.

Then maybe we'll travel a bit. Fuck each other silly in foreign countries.

I can't wait to do that again. I haven't had a proper fuck since May! I've spent these last few months getting reacquainted with my right hand, and believe me, it doesn't come close to you.

But the incredible sex is just a bonus, right? Our relationship was always about more than that. I want to do silly romantic things with you. Watch the sun rise, eat dinner by candlelight, wine and roses. I want you to know how much you are loved. I want everyone else to know, too.

We'll get married.

That's legal now, you know?

We can get married, adopt a kid or two, have a real family. I know you never had one growing up, so I want to give that to you. I want to give you everything you could ever want.

I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I couldn't imagine losing you again.

I love you, Harry.

Marry me.


	30. Saturday, 2pm

Saturday, 2pm

I managed to get a few hours' sleep this morning, but I was back at St. Mungo's by 8. Tonks met me there an hour later.

That was a long hour. I tried not to fidget and pace too much, but I could tell I was getting on the nerves of the people around me. I sneered at them and toyed with my wand, and they left me alone.

When Tonks finally arrived, I left my wand at the desk and followed her down the long hall to your room.

You looked… I don't know. You were so pale and still. It was a bit unnerving. I sat in the plastic chair provided and took your hand. Tonks leaned against the wall by the foot of your bed. We just stayed like that for a while, me holding your hand, and Tonks looking at us with a sad expression.

"Harry," I said, but I wasn't sure how to continue.

I looked around the room. It was big as far as hospital rooms went, and was full of gaudily wrapped gifts and flowers. You were connected to a few machines. I don't know what they did, though. I saw a needle in the hand I wasn't holding and winced. You know I hate needles. I carefully covered that hand with the sheet.

"Harry, I…" I made another false start. I looked up at Tonks. She was staring out the window now, giving us some semblance of privacy.

"I need you to wake up," I said finally. "I need you to tell all these morons that we're still together, because they don't believe me." I kissed your fingers. "I need you, Harry. I need you in my life. Without you, I am nothing. Love is terrible, isn't it? When I had you, I was stronger than I ever was before, but without you, I am weaker than I ever was before... Merlin, that's a hard thing to admit. Malfoys don't admit weakness, you know. But then, Malfoys also aren't gay." I laughed, even though it wasn't really funny. "The point is, I love you. Hear that? I love you, Harry Potter."

I kissed your limp fingers again, and let the tears fall.

It was a while before anything happened. I just sat next to you and cried. Then I felt your hand grip mine.

I looked at your hand, not quite believing it. Your fingers were definitely wrapped around my own. I looked at your face. Your eyes were open.

Your beautiful, green, heavy-lidded eyes stared absently up at the ceiling.

"Harry?" I whispered.

You shifted your gaze to me. Your lips moved, but no words came out.

"Oh, Merlin, Harry!" I cried.

Tonks looked over at that. Her eyes widened. "Draco, we have to go tell the doctors."

"I'm staying," I said firmly.

"No, seriously, Draco. I can't leave you in here alone," Tonks said.

You looked like you had no idea what was going on, but that was to be expected.

"Angel," you finally whispered.

"Yes, Harry. I'm here," I said. Your eyes closed again, but your grip remained firm.

Tonks went into the hall and found a mediwizard. She had to pull me away from you.

"I'll come back, Harry," I promised.

---

Afterwards I went out to lunch with Hermione. I told her that you woke up. She was amazed.

"His eyes opened?" she said in disbelief.

"Yeah," I said. I was smiling, and had been since I left your room.

"Was he aware of anything?" she asked.

"He said, 'Angel,'" I replied.

Hermione frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It's what he calls me," I said. Oh, Merlin, now she was going to ask why.

"Why?"

I hesitated. "It's kind of personal." I took a sip of my coffee, and she looked at me expectantly, so I explained about the Quidditch game.

"Oh, that's sweet!" she exclaimed when I finished.

"It is, isn't it?" I answered.

---

As we walked back to St. Mungo's, Hermione said, "He's going to be fine, isn't he?"

"Yes," I replied. I looked at her, and there were tears in her eyes.

She stopped walking and moved close to me. "You'll make him happy, won't you, Draco?"

It was her way of saying she accepts us as a couple. As long as you still want me, anyway, and I know you do.

"I will do everything in my power to get him well again, and then I will give him everything he could ever want," I replied. "I love him."

Without warning, she threw herself into me, pulling me into a tight hug. I hesitated, but then wrapped my arms around her in return.

"I know you do," she said.


	31. Epilogue

Epilogue

A mediwizard appeared in the doorway of the wing where Harry was staying.

"I need Draco Malfoy, and someone Harry Potter calls 'Angel'," he announced.

Draco looked up from his parchment in surprise, but got up and approached the mediwizard. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Harry keeps asking for you," he replied, shifting uncomfortably under Draco's gaze. "Angel?" he called again.

"I'm Angel," Draco said. The mediwizard frowned.

"He is," Hermione called helpfully. She was gripping Ron's hand tightly. Both were anxious to know what was happening too.

He conceded, and led Draco to Harry's room.

---

Harry was flailing about nervously. He wasn't fully aware of what was going on, and calming potions seemed to be having no effect on him. There were tears in his wide green eyes. Draco rushed over and took his hand. "Harry, I'm here."

"Angel?" The voice was stronger than yesterday.

"Yes, love," Draco said. He looked intently at his boyfriend, and Harry calmed down. Draco lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed.

The mediwizards watched as Draco kissed Harry's hand, his scar, his lips. They watched in amazement as the boy who had been so unresponsive to all their efforts to help sank serenely into the arms of the other.

"Do you know what happened?" Draco asked his boyfriend.

Harry shook his head, no. One of the mediwizards gave Draco a warning look that said, i Don't upset him /i . Draco glared at him over Harry's shoulder.

"You're at St. Mungo's. You killed Voldemort. Hear that, love? You really did it. You saved us all," Draco said. He kissed the top of Harry's head. "But you got hurt. So I need you to stay calm so the mediwizards can help you, okay?"

Harry nodded, and clung tighter to his boyfriend. "Love you, Angel," he said.

"Love you too, Harry," Draco replied.

The mediwizards were amazed, not only at the change in their patient, but also that Draco had been telling the truth about their relationship. They let him stay while they worked with Harry, afraid that Harry's calm demeanor would vanish once Draco had left the room.

---

In the waiting area, Hermione sat in Draco's chair. She picked up the stack of parchments from where Draco had dropped them on the floor, and re-organized them into a neat pile. She placed it on the plastic chair next to her, not intending to read them. Their contents were private, after all.

Her name caught her eye.

i Granger insisted on having lunch with me today. She took me out to a little Muggle café down the street, and we got sandwiches and coffee. We sat in silence for a while, and then she suddenly started talking about you. /i

She started skimming through.

i I shouldn't do this! /i She thought.

But her curiosity got the better of her, and she flipped through to find the first page.

i Harry,

You will probably never read this letter. If you live, I will have no reason to give it to you, and if you don't- oh, Merlin, I can't think about that… /i

---

After a few hours, the mediwizards gave Harry a Sleeping Potion, and told Draco to get some fresh air. He didn't want to leave Harry, but figured it would be better to stay on their good side by not arguing.

When Draco returned to the waiting room, Hermione was sitting in his chair, a stack of papers in her hands. Her head was lowered, her hair covering her face.

Wait. That was his stack of papers. His letter.

He stalked over and grabbed it away.

She was crying.

"You filthy little - that's private!" he yelled at her.

She cried harder.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to read it… it's just… you dropped it and I…" she tried.

"What the hell kind of excuse is that?" Draco demanded.

Then Ron was behind him. "Leave her alone, Malfoy," he said in a low, threatening voice.

Draco reeled on him. "She took advantage of my absence to peruse my private property! It's-"

"It's beautiful," Hermione interrupted. "When he's better, you should show it to him."

Draco frowned. "What?"

"You love him so much," she said. "I'm sorry, you're right. I shouldn't have read it, but I was afraid you'd never really let me get to know you."

Draco was at a loss for words, for, apparently, the first time in ten days.

Hermione stood up and hugged Draco, who didn't know what to do. She pulled back to look into his gray eyes.

"Meet us for lunch tomorrow," she said.

"Us?" Draco frowned again.

"Me, Ron, and whoever else would like to know you better. Same café, noon. We'll talk," she said, placing her hand on Ron's arm.

Draco nodded, and Hermione walked away with her boyfriend in tow. He collapsed into his chair in disbelief.

Harry was going to be okay.

His friends would support them. Well, Hermione would, anyway, and hopefully she could convince the others.

Draco looked through the stack of parchment. He picked up his quill, and to the last page he added,

i Love always,

Draco. /i


End file.
